


Maybe... Just Maybe...

by RozenWolfgang



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Goodbyes, His Last Vow Spoilers, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RozenWolfgang/pseuds/RozenWolfgang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do I tell you? Should I tell you? When was it that this feeling started? It hurts, standing here about to leave. Never knowing if I'll be back. Good bye, John Watson. </p><p> <br/>Exact same actions/dialogue as the show but internalized "what really happened" sorta thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe... Just Maybe...

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Sorry for the crappy summary and for any errors and stuff in the actual story.

Sherlock stands there. Staring at his best friend. Thinking.

John is shuffling his feet. Looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time. _He’s nervous. Probably feeling awkward given the circumstance._

 _I guess I’m feeling awkward and nervous as well.  The nervousness would explain the urge to ramble, the awkwardness would explain the need to fill the empty air. I’m probably feeling sad too. That would explain the non-sensical thought that I’ve lost John when he’s standing right in front of me. But this ache. This longing. This_ indescribable _feeling. I can’t find a logical explanation for them. I haven’t been able to for quite a long time. I guess one can only call this… love._

‘John -- there’s something…” Sherlock begins, swallowing a little. Suddenly he finds his throat tightening, it’s a dull pain, aching whenever Sherlock tries to speak or swallow. _I should tell him. That’s the normal thing to do_

John, who before, had been shuffling his feet and trying to make himself feel a little less awkward, now looks up at Sherlock, paying attention to what Sherlock has to say.

“I should say, I meant to say – always - and then I never have… Since it’s unlikely we will ever meet again, I might as well say it now,” _I love you. I think. No no, I DO! I love you… I just have to say it. Just say it! No no… not when I’m leaving. What good’ll that do, telling him? He’ll know and then I’ll be gone. Even if he were, in some way shape or form, to accept me and my_ feelings _, that doesn’t help when I’m gone. It’s not like, if I profess my undying love, everything will suddenly play out like in fairy tales, Mycroft gets a call that’s of national import, maybe Moriarty came back from the dead, and he needs me to come back and solve the case and all will be well and we go back to living in 221B Baker St, just John and me solving cases. That’s never going to happen, not even if I tell John these_ feelings _. Not even if Mary weren’t in the picture. The only thing that’ll happen if I do tell him is he goes back home to his wife, maybe think and worry with his little brain of his, wondering what he could have done, how he couldn’t have seen it, and on and on with his little thoughts. There’s no point in that. There’s no point in making John worry about something that can’t be changed. There’s no point in my telling him. No. No point at all._

“Sherlock is actually a girl’s name.” Sherlock deadpans. John starts half-laughing half-giggling in that funny way of his. _When did I first start noticing these little things about him?_ A small smile forms on Sherlock’s lips. _This is good enough. To hear him laugh once more, to know he’s happy and will be for a long time to come._

‘It’s not…” John starts.

“It was worth a try.” Sherlock says with a small shrug.

“We’re not naming our daughter after you, Sherlock.”

“Oh I think it could work.” Sherlock puts on a little smile that quickly fades away. He pulls off his glove and sticks out his hand. “To the very best of times, John.”

John hesitates a little, feeling a little lost, not quite able to wrap his head around that fact that Sherlock Holmes is leaving. For good. But he resolves himself and reaches out to grasp Sherlock’s outstretched hand anyway.

Sherlock clings to John’s hand a moment longer. _This is it._ _ ~~I don’t want to go~~. _ Sherlock gives one last shake to John’s hand, steps back, then onto the plane.

John watches as Sherlock walks away, a feeling of irrevocable lost coming over him not unlike when he saw Sherlock on the ground with blood seeping out of him. _No. This is different. Sherlock is alive. Maybe not right by my side, but_ alive _._ ~~ _Is that enough?_~~

And as the plane is taking off Sherlock looks out the window and sees John interlocking arms with Mary, watching his plane take off together. The funniest feeling comes over Sherlock, the same emotion that runs through him whenever he sees Mary and John together nowadays, a funny mix of anger, sadness, and content.

_What a horrible feeling. This “Love”. So much of this achy pain, this irrational anger, and this unadulterated happiness._

_I love you John._

**Author's Note:**

> I might add some more to this story. If I do it'll probably be this same sort of style, exact same actions/dialogue as the show but the thought process shown, giving the story a different light. Maybe I'll pick and choose scenes from the show, maybe I'll start and the beginning and work my way to the end, or vis versa, start at the end and work my way back to the beginning. If I do write more, I probably won't stick to only/mostly Sherlock's perspective, maybe a mix of both, or at times focusing in on one or the other. 
> 
> That is of course, if I ever get around to writing more of this. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
